Leila el Arja is sitting amongst rubble, looking far into the distance, trying to comprehend.
She's surrounded by twisted metal, smashed concrete and broken wood.
This used to be a happy place for Leila and her family. Now, it's a painful reminder of the the past 15 months of war in Gaza.
"We left Rafah on May 6. I left and I was afraid," she told the ABC this week.
"I wanted to take something, anything, from the house, but there was no time. I grabbed the children and left in a hurry. Military planes were overhead, dropping leaflets in our area.
"We prayed every day to return home and for the bloodshed to end. Above all, we longed for peace and safety. We lived in constant fear, haunted by the dread of losing everything."
Those fears have now been realised.
Leila is perched amongst the remnants of what was once her family home, having travelled to Rafah, in Gaza's south, from the Mawasi camp in Khan Younis earlier in the day.
It wasn't a total surprise to see the house was destroyed.
Israel's attacks in Gaza over the past 15 months have razed entire communities in the territory.
While a ceasefire deal between Israel and Hamas that began at the weekend has been widely celebrated, it's also signalled the start of a devastating new chapter for many Gazans: rebuilding their homes and lives.
The day before the ABC spoke to Leila, her husband Ibrahim had travelled to Rafah to see what was left.
"I took down our tent and went to check on our house yesterday, it was completely destroyed," he said.
"When I went to my neighbourhood, I saw every house reduced to rubble. When I reached my own home, I felt like I might collapse — the walls, once filled with memories, were now shattered.
"We had memories in this house, bad times, songs, but also happy moments, sadness. It has all disappeared with the destruction of the house."
Ibrahim and Leila el Arja's story is all too common in Gaza.
From the north to the south, and every community in between, buildings that were once loving homes now lie in ruin.
The housing crisis in Gaza will be one part of the lasting legacy of the war between Israel and Hamas, which humanitarian organisations estimate displaced millions of people.
Families are already trying to rent space in properties still standing, but the demand is so high that many are missing out.
They will have to rely on temporary shelters for many months to come.
"We need homes, caravans, solid tents because we are in winter, winter is not over yet," Ibrahim said.
"Rebuilding will require heavy equipment, but we'll do everything we can to set up a tent and begin anew. Life must go on.
The destruction of his home isn't stopping Ibrahim packing up his life and returning to Rafah.
He loaded his family's belongings into a truck he rented for the day, filling bags that once contained humanitarian aid with the clothes and household items he and his wife managed to grab before they fled.
Rolled-up rugs, torn mattresses, gas bottles and even a bicycle were piled up in the back and balanced precariously ahead of the journey south.
Ibrahim has does this before. And he's hoping he doesn't have to do it again, now that the fragile ceasefire between Israel and Hamas is in place.
"When the ceasefire was announced, we felt a bittersweet mix of emotions," he told the ABC.
"We were relieved by the end of the war and the cessation of civilian bloodshed. It brought some comfort, but the pain of all we had endured lingered."
The tent he's called home in Mawasi will be erected amongst the rubble in Rafah.
Leila worries for her children, living amongst the ruins after 15 months of war.
"They were top students, they read the Qur'an and were devout in their faith, but the war has changed them, it has taken a toll on their spirits," she said.
"We still hold on to hope, but after witnessing the destruction, fear has settled in.
"How many years will it take to rebuild our home, to restore it to what it once was?"
Leila showed the ABC photos of what her house once looked like. She's proud of what her family had built.
"I used to fix up the house, take pictures of it, and redesign its rooms.
"I had a sense, deep down, that I might lose it one day.
"Before we were forced to leave, I found myself constantly capturing images of the house, as if trying to hold on to it before it was gone.
"I loved my house. I stayed home day and night, even though it was modest. I had a garden as well."
